


Fireside

by noblydonedonnanoble



Category: Fright Night (2011), The Office (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even 19 years, 2 months, and 8 days later, even drunk off his ass, Peter Vincent remembered with absolute clarity what it felt like to kiss Nellie Bertram.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireside

                This one was ginger.

                Peter always tried to avoid gingers, but sometimes when he was drunk enough he’d sidle up to a beautiful, curvy redhead. He’d give her a wide smile, a mangled pick-up line, and maybe she would actually go for it.

                So this was one of _those_ redheads.

                It had been almost 20 years (19 years, 2 months, and 8 days) since his last row with Nellie, so his image of her was blurred at best. But even intoxicated, it struck him—as this woman was kissing his neck, unbuttoning his shirt—that she _felt_ nothing like Nell.

                (Even disregarding how distinctly _human_ she smelled.)

                His hands didn’t feel at home on her waist. Her nose was bigger, so it bumped against his with each kiss.

                And her mouth…

                Her mouth was _all wrong_.

                Even 19 years, 2 months, and 8 days later, even drunk off his ass, Peter Vincent remembered with absolute clarity what it felt like to kiss Nellie Bertram.

                She tended to have that effect. And this was exactly why he always tried to avoid gingers, because whenever she bore even a minor resemblance to his Nell, he always got so caught up sizing them up next to each other and Nellie always won.

                This ginger didn’t stand a chance. Her hand on the button of his trousers, Peter reached down and stopped her. “I’ve changed m’ mind,” he mumbled. “I think I should go.”

                “Made it all the way to my flat and _then_ had to back down? Least you could’ve done was made your mind up while we were still at the pub, I’d’ve found someone else.”

                Peter mumbled a lame apology, gathered up his shirt and coat, and retreated from the flat, all within two minutes.

                It took only fifteen more seconds for him to realize that he had no fucking clue where he was, or how he was to get back to his own flat from wherever the fuck he was. He hadn’t even left her doormat and he was already lost.

                Dejected, he crossed the hall and sat down, perching on the bottom step leading up to the next floor.

                He was already contemplating whether any complications would arise if he slept off the alcohol right there in the stairwell when a voice came from a few feet to his right and above him. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.”

                Peter gasped in slightly at the sound of the voice and he hated himself for it. He craned his neck skyward. “ _Nellie_?”

                At the same time, they said, “I didn’t know you were back in London.”

                He immediately laughed, just a bit too loud and a bit too long. “I’ve been here almost this whole time. You know I only agreed to go to Paris because you wanted to. Why would I hang around?”

                “Oh.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Peter thought she looked to be genuinely touched as she asked, “But what are you doing here? You’re not, er, looking for me, are you?”

                Well, she wasn’t wrong. “Yes, I was,” he agreed immediately.

                Nellie opened her mouth to respond at the same time that Peter’s ginger opened the door to her flat again and looked out at them both. “Oh good, Peter, you’ve not gone yet. You left this.” She tossed his wallet to him before turning her attention to Nellie. “Hi Eleanor, how was your date?”

                Peter jolted to look up at Nellie, who maintained a calm, cool exterior. “Rather abysmal. How about you, how was your office party?”

                The ginger glanced at Peter, and was it his imagination or did she just roll her eyes? “Alright. I wish I’d stayed out longer but I’m home now so I’ll just be staying in.”

                “Mmm,” Nellie hummed sympathetically. “You have a lovely night, Laura.”

                “You too, dear.”

                As soon as the ginger—Laura, apparently, although Peter had already forgotten—closed her door, Nellie scoffed. “Why’d you have to lie, Peter? You were here to shag my neighbor, you weren’t here for me.”

                “But I was… looking for you,” he insisted.

                She glanced back at the door for a moment and understanding seemed to dawn on her because she looked to Peter again and sized him up carefully. “On a scale from 1 to 10, how pissed are you? 1 being sober and 10 being that one night in 1783.”

                He considered it carefully. “Ah… an 8.”

                Nellie let out a loud sigh and reached out to help him up. “You’re staying the night with me, then. You’re not in good shape, you shouldn’t be going out into the city like this.”

                “I… what?”

                “Don’t make me change my mind,” she grumbled.

                Peter took her hand and let her guide him up one more flight of stairs to her flat. She dropped him unceremoniously on her sofa the moment they entered. From this vantage point, he heard her puttering around in the kitchen for a few minutes before she reappeared and set a glass down in front of him.

                “Clear your head a little bit before you go to sleep,” she instructed.

                He leaned forward and peered down at it. “AB negative?”

                “Yes, Peter, I remembered your favorite. No need to sound smug about it, it’s only been 20 years.”

                “I… I wasn’t smug,” he mumbled weakly.

                She ignored this and simply stood over him, watching expectantly. He rolled his eyes and picked up the glass, taking a long drink.

                “Good. Now, you can stay out here on the sofa tonight. If you want, I can drive you home tomorrow before I go to work.”

                “Working again?” Peter smirked. “Where are you this time?”

                “I’m a secretary for the executive editor at a publishing company.”

                “Oh!” Peter understood very little about the career world but he knew enough to be impressed. “That’s exciting, Nell. Nice going.”

                “Thanks, love.”

                She froze as soon as the word slipped from her mouth but Peter brushed past it as gracefully as he could. “Well, you’ve got no reason to hover over me. I’ll just finish my cuppa here and then go to sleep.”

                “Alright. You have a good night.”

                Peter nodded.

                She was almost out of the room when Peter called after her. “Nell, hang on.”

                “Yeah?”

                “I didn’t shag her. Your neighbor. She’d just kicked me out when you found me because I’d changed my mind.”

                Something about her expression changed slightly. He wanted to believe that she looked relieved, but he was also drunk off his ass, so he couldn't say for sure. “Good night, Peter.”


End file.
